Vahine Ruin: Mission Of Coition
by Quillon42
Summary: Checks into the pretty terrible Vampire Rain universe here and imagines what might have happened if Claire Kelly were turned and the Nightwalkers made her into the ultimate Parent Walker. A certain lackluster Lloyd must step in to stop her, using the most sensuous of stealthy methods, so that she does not assist the Walkers from ruling the Rainiverse.


VAHINE RUIN: MISSION OF COITION

By Quillon42

Hunched down now in his continual crabwalk combat stance was the Special Forces Operative known by the brain-detonatingly colorful and unusual handle of John Lloyd. At the present the man of war (as well as worthless weapons) was working overtime, for the American Information Bureau, an agency seething with surly assholes wishing to wage thoughtless conflicts against the enemy for profit.

And this enemy in question were entities nothing human, though certainly inhumane: the vilest of neck-nibblers too en vogue to be called vampires. It was nothing less than an insult to the horrific horde, in fact, to refer to them as anything other than Nightwalkers, a moniker almost as inspired as fucking John Lloyd.

At any rate, the same silently-loping Lloyd was nearing the close of his overnight shift at present…although the final confrontation herein somewhat deviated from what was represented in the mainstream gamestream. Here, it was still the case that the fourth Prime Walker adjutant called Charles was standing atop an awful altar, a sickening setpiece that looked a giant scarlet funeral cake, that looked an extremely oversized gory coral urinal cake, the Nightninny endeavoring time and again to utter out that entire ritual rhyme that would seal the rule of Walkers over all life on Earth for all time.

Where matters parted company between this narrative and Artoon's own opus is that, whereas jiving John Lloyd would have to take out the cruel Chuckles and then have it out with the overseeing Lord Hessler's main squeeze Monique, then approach the languid Lord himself thereafter and decide whether to execute him personally or not (Lloyd in these last moments seemingly transforming, specifically from the anonymous operative he was for so many hours, to an anorexic iteration of the Punisher)…here the entire affair would end with the end, or rather in the end, of a tomboy-turned-traitor who almost terminated the mission prematurely with the most piddling of pistols.

Here in this narrative reality, Special Forces Operative Claire Kelly never had a chance to murder her hapless compatriot Hanson in the team's roving van, but rather, upon her capture by the vaunted Walkers of the nefarious night, had been turned by them most expeditiously in fact. And now, some several meters before the aforementioned altar upon which Charles was standing and chanting, Kelly stood sole watch over the scene, she stripped of her black ops togs, her denuded back facing Lloyd now as the latter crept up carefully to the former.

This jauntiest of Johns readied himself now at the rear of the winsome warrior of a former teammate, he equipped with an item more effective than any Neolite machinegun or even Bellamy shotgun he could scrounge up that entire night. Verily the action in which Lloyd was about to engage was similar to his slicing across the ass, with an Ultraviolet Knife, of so many unassuming sentries who would "OOOUUURRRGGGHHH" into a puddle of repeated pizza and Mountain Dew, or so it seemed to appear once they were so clandestinely killed off. Here, though, the vanilla vampire-slaughtering soldier was approaching not with a UV Blade, but rather a UV Sheath—a radioactive prophylactic which the Government designed for very sticky situations and which of course was left lying around a rooftop at random, like every other item in the hero's untoward adventure.

Now the man was crouching at the ready and almost as naked as the lady upon whom he snuck. One would think that in this instant for Lloyd, after he had been slicing up about 666 asses these past several hours…enough to merit a parody of the Pixies' "Debaser" regarding the line about eyeballs (nevermind)…this specific hit on Kelly would be unnaturally easy. Yet there it hung before him, a lower-half-hourglass of an ass so olive and alive; on a scale of one to ten, this most bonny of nates rated a 908. Truly the temptation was teeming to tongue rather than transfix with the amethyst shaft so primed upon the pintle by this veteran of vamp-romps.

What saved Lloyd a second later, ironically, was the stumbling yet again of Charles through his poem of perdition. As one would handily observe through the gamestream itself, the Prime Punkass was easily distracted from his recitation, time and again, by the nuisance of a sniper rifle shot through the noggin when Lloyd so intervened. Talk about lack of dedication to the task at hand, on the part of the flappable foe.

Even without such intervention of artillery, though, Charles still allowed the smallest stimuli to stop him. _"Cometh the cycle of sun and full moon, between both night and noon…AAARRRGGG!"_

Fortunately the deflection of the ulnar funny bone of the Walker, against the side of one of the cryptic uprights of the altar, wound up aborting the performance once more. At this Kelly started in shock, she tensed and ready to lend succor to the sucker as needed. Lloyd did not hesitate now, but rather launched his lilac lance deep into the derriere of the dame.

"OOOUUUIIIAAAHHH…"

Rather than a grunt of agony, a peal of pleasure issued from this honey from Hawaii. Kelly had indeed been a vahine (really more often termed a "wahine") before she was a vampire, which explained her mocha-toned epidermis—taken down a slight shade since her turning yet still alluring all the same. Lloyd did not let go, but pushed and pounded all he could in an effort to fuck the far-flung foulness out of the femme.

A beat later, though, and Kelly had capered off of her erotic impalement, she looking back in animalistic rage and reaching instinctively for that which had skewered her side of the back.

Lloyd for his part pulled back just enough in the ensuing picosecond so that, instead of yanking off his manhood altogether, Kelly only whisked away the intervening Ultraviolet Sheath in its stead. She then looked to leap upon the outstretched legs of the supine Lloyd, to give him a very deserved googoleth bloody Game Over screen of the evening…but…

 _"Cometh the cycle of sun and full moon, between both…AAARRRGGG!"_

the stubbing of Charles's toe just now upon the altar's uneven surface gave the suave special-opser the next opening he needed. Again no hesitation as the man went all in against Kelly, the standard issue shank granted him by Nature itself plowing into Claire's covert frontal foxhole, Lloyd letting loose with his Infrared Fluid to flood through Kelly's corruption-cluttered atoms, cleaning her of her devilish disease and ruining the run of the Nightwalkers across the entire Earth.

In retrospect, as the investigating AIB would discover, Claire Kelly was designated to be the Grandparent Walker, given the magnitude of her malevolent treachery against those in her own squad. Her defeat would result in the discomfiture of all Nightwalker machinations prepared against the planet. Now, as Charles calmed on down finally and Lloyd engaged in the afterplay of osculating repeatedly against the beauteous beigeness of Kelly's belly, then kissing her bold bole breasts ever enlargened by her Walker-wrought turning, the rest of the world heaved relief in addition. Forsooth, Claire and John would be brought forward in the media as Earth's saviors, Kelly and Lloyd on celluloid as the movie of their crisis was carried to the cinema. In turn, others involved in the incidents would also pair off.

More particularly, it was Hank Harrison, the leader of Lloyd's squad, who bonded bodily with Meg-Margaret the third Prime Walker. Adjutant of gingers Duane Hanson, who was the techie in the van, sealed the deal with the affrightened kindred redhead in the sewer who was dragged off, her spindly legs once freakishly dangling in the drainpipe. Lord Hessler remained with his Monni-Q Sonichu, and eventually they did reach that ridge together by way of the camel with two backs. This Author ended up with Mary Barnstead, that nurse or waitress or whatever from the opening cutscene. And Emily Foley was delivered to her professor father, she pleased to be back with purer blood but still unable to shake the monkey of that fucking music box upon her precocious back.


End file.
